


Bottoms Up

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Edgeplay, Extremely Dubious Consent, Government Conspiracy, I'm messing heavily with consent, Impact Play, Knifeplay, M/M, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Powerbottom Tom Riddle, Some plot if you squint, Submissive Harry, Topping from the Bottom, dominant Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: “Did you think you could escape from me, Harry? I am almost hurt that you don’t even recognize my voice.”Harry froze, horror dawning on his features when he realized just then who it was that was caressing his cheek and likely looming over him like some phantom.Tom Marvolo Riddle.Lord Voldemort.Leader of the opposing faction...and Harry’s old childhood friend.Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut, the panic simmering in his belly exploding into chaos.





	Bottoms Up

**Author's Note:**

> I am not overtly fond of bottom Tom. But I felt the need to contribute to this particular area. I wrote this in a way that I felt I could come to appreciate Tom as a bottom. I would also keep in mind that this is an AU.
> 
> Please leave comments or kudos. 
> 
> Thank you to nanimok for betaing.

The first thing Harry noticed was that he was sitting on a comfortable, leather chair. Soft and supple; it was easily the nicest seat he had ever sat in. Not that Harry had had the luxury as of late.

His missions had given him little opportunity to indulge in those simple comforts. Especially when he had been assigned to work in some backwater town in the middle of nowhere Britain. It wasn’t the most ideal aspect of his work, but Harry did not question it. Dumbledore was a rather difficult man to deal with, and rather than subject himself to man’s scrutinizing eyes, Harry just packed his bags and took the first plane there.

Why Harry was there? He still didn't know.

Though, that mattered little now. The fact that he was in a _plush_ seat and not on the old mattress ensconced in that shitty small cottage the organization had provided him meant only one thing.

His cover had been blown and he was in serious trouble.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

Harry jerked, his eyes squinting around the darkness shrouding his eyes to face the source. It was clearly male, a rich and smooth baritone that was similar to the old records Harry's parents used to play back home. 

It was oddly familiar.

Harry couldn’t see shite, his eyes completely enveloped by a thick, scratchy cloth that irritated his eyes. It honestly should have been his first clue that he was in trouble, instead of the worrying sensation of leather under his arse. But that wasn’t important.

His wrists were bound to the armrests on either side of him, and his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. That was a more pressing concern.

Harry tested the bindings, but the ropes did not give. The material was coarse and thick, and it was just as itchy, if not more so, than the cloth covering his eyes.

_Shite._

Harry couldn’t even feel his knives he had hidden away on his body. His pockets were barren of their familiar weight.

Harry narrowed his eyes, realization giving way to panic. He was bound and stripped entirely of weapons. He couldn’t feel a single one of them, and that was _definitely_ not good at all.

This reeked of trouble.

“You could not imagine my surprise when I heard that famous Harry James Potter was seen living right at the outskirts of Little Hangleton.”

Harry swallowed when the voice came closer. The source of the rich sound coming from right above his head.

“So close to my home and so vulnerable.”

Harry began to sweat profusely, his nerves jolting when a warm hand pressed against his cheek. The touch so slight that it was like air touching at the skin, like the vapor from a bubbling pot.

“Did you think you could escape from me, Harry? I am almost hurt that you don’t even recognize my voice.”

Harry froze, horror dawning on his features when he realized just then _who_ it was that was caressing his cheek and likely looming over him like some phantom.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._

_Lord Voldemort._

_Leader of the opposing faction...and Harry’s old childhood friend._

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut, the panic simmering in his belly exploding into chaos.

“T-tom?” Harry choked out, a different sort of dread crawling down his spine.

Harry had thought he had lost the man’s hounds. It had taken him months to shake him after they had crossed paths several months prior in Italy, and now, after being sent to the British countryside to meet an anonymous informant, it seemed that Riddle had found him again.

And Harry was completely unarmed! His weapons cast aside, his arms and legs strapped so tight that it would be a miracle if Harry managed to release himself.

Riddle had left no stone unturned. He had removed anything that could be used to cut through the rope. It made Harry’s skin crawl knowing that Riddle had likely searched him in his sleep, had pressed his fingers against his skin and patted down in search of his weapons.

Harry had to think of something fast or things would certainly get ugly. He couldn’t just sit there helpless, not when Riddle was a murdering psychopath that threatened to tilt Britain completely on its head.

“Yes, Harry?” Tom crooned, and Harry winced when the man’s hand slid down his cheek, his nails dragging hard down his jaw, until they were right at the edge of his collar.

His touch seared Harry to the bone, but Harry did nothing more than clench his hands into fists. He knew better than to react. If he showed even a bit of weakness in Riddle’s presence, everything would quickly unravel.

And that was the _last_ thing Harry needed.

Riddle was batshit crazy. Incredibly intelligent, but pretty unhinged when it involved Harry. And man, did that suck. It had been one of the more awful aspects of their relationships when they were both much younger. Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine just how Riddle was now, his sadistic and violent tendencies no longer hidden away behind sweet smiles and innocent eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” Harry stated after he cleared his throat, knowing that the only thing he could do at this point was talk to the man. Insulting and cursing Riddle never led to a pleasant outcome. So Harry would behave, for now.

As long as Riddle behaved, or at least did not lose his marbles during their little interaction, Harry could hold his tongue. The man had yet to do something nefarious, so Harry would treat the man accordingly.

It was really in his best interest to simply talk.

Tom, for all his many flaws—his sanity being the biggest one—could still listen to reason. And if it was Harry speaking, odds were higher that he would actually consider the words spewing from Harry’s mouth. And that suited him just fine, it gave him ample opportunity steer Riddle away from any...dangerous intentions.

But he had to tread lightly. Riddle was as predictable as he was sane, easily more dangerous than walking through a minefield without the proper gear.

“I don’t?” Riddle sounded amused, and Harry inhaled sharply when the finger caught on the collar of his shirt and something clicked in the dark.

_Please tell me that’s not a—_

“Of course I don’t, but I _want_ to,” Riddle murmured, his tone far too innocent considering the circumstances.

Harry jerked when something cold pressed against the center of his chest, a sharp tip digging hard enough to cut before Riddle yanked on the collar of his shirt and began to split his shirt down the middle.

Cold air licked at him, and Harry shuddered.

_No, not again—_

“Fucking cut it out!” Harry shouted when Riddle finished cutting his T-shirt, the jagged edges of the shirt tickling his sides.

“Since you asked so nicely…” Riddle laughed, and Harry released a pained hiss when the sharp metal pushed against the waistband of his pants, the tip slicing into him as Riddle started to tear through his trousers as well.

Wherever Riddle nicked, it burned. Dampness beaded where the sting was most unbearable, his muscles twitching unwittingly the closer and closer the blade got to his inner thigh.

Harry knew that the best way to strip someone was to simply cut at the seams on one side of the leg, preferably the seam right on the stitching at the hip. The fact that Riddle was cutting right in the middle, tearing through the inner seam instead, was sign enough that Riddle wanted him to hurt and to squirm.

So Harry clamped down, his fingernails biting into the leather beneath his hands as Riddle continued to cut at the inseam, deep enough that it was tearing through his boxers like butter, and slicing his skin all at once.

To anyone that didn’t know Riddle, they would have thought he was careless. But Harry knew this man better than anyone. Knew him better than even the leader of his faction.

He _wanted_ to hurt Harry, just as much as he wanted to humiliate him. It was obvious in the way Riddle laughed above him each time a pained hiss could not be stifled, or a flinch could not be stopped. The sounds ripped straight out of his mouth whenever the tip just brushed briefly against his inner thigh.

This went on _and on_ , for what felt like hours.

_Sodding sadist._

By the time Riddle was done, Harry was completely exposed to the cold air in the room and peppered with cuts. His thighs burning something fierce as Harry tried to calm his rapid breaths.

“Much better.”

Riddle said from right in front of him, his tone pleased and breathier than it had been earlier. Then, before Harry could protest, Riddle grabbed onto the fabric beneath his legs and finished tearing them off his body.

He was entirely exposed.

“It has been a long time since we last played. This is certainly _long_ overdue,” Riddle remarked, one of his hands smoothing over Harry’s bare thighs, his nails catching on the cuts and aggravating the wounds.

Harry bit his lip hard enough to bleed, chewing hard on the appendage to stop himself from saying something he was going to regret.

“I’ve missed this, _miss you_. I remember when we were inseparable, when you were still so very innocent. I almost wish we could return to those Halcyon days…” Riddle murmured, nudging and teasing along the sensitive skin of Harry’s thighs before creeping uncomfortably close to his cock.

In a way, Harry wished things could have been different between them. Better. They had been close, closer than anyone Harry had ever been to anyone before. His parents had loved Tom; and Harry, even if he’d rather cut his tongue out than admit such a thing, did as well.

 _Still does_ , a traitorous voice interrupted.

But there was no returning to those simpler days. Riddle had to be stopped. They were on opposite sides of a battle, and no matter how much it hurt him to know that the only way to resolve this fight was to kill Riddle, it had to be done. Lives were on the line; innocents that didn’t deserve to be caught on the crossfire.

Harry had tried countless times to change Riddle’s mind, to steer him away from the dangerous path he was treading. But Riddle hadn’t listened. He refused to abandon his plan, forcing Harry to finally turn his back on him.

It hurt to know that Harry couldn’t save the man from himself.

“...just so I can steal your innocence from you, again.”

Harry shuddered when Riddle’s fingers ran along his cock, the muscle twitching and stirring to life at such a seemingly innocuous gesture.

“D-don’t touch me,” Harry grunted out when Riddle clasped his hand around him, his hand soft and ridden with callouses.

Harry remembered when Riddle’s hands had been softer than a babe. Moist with his nerves, and eager to play with Harry’s skin, twisting and scratching at him just for the sole reason of seeing him moan.

Those hands brought back far too many memories. There was no shaking the memories of how this man’s fingers had touched along his neck before gripping it tight and cutting the air from his lungs, of how it brought him to the cusp of release, knowing the risk of being choked to death. Riddle could have easily killed him all those instances, could have held on until Harry was lying dead with the man’s cock in his arse.

But Riddle hadn’t. The man only pleasured him, only did as Harry had begged him. It made him all too bitter.

Because how could someone capable of so much hurt be kind and sweet to him? If Riddle was capable of such monstrosities, why had he been so gentle with him, knowing where Harry's moral compass lied? Why did Riddle tell him that he loved Harry? Why did Riddle kiss him as tenderly as he did when Harry finally gathered his courage back in school to confess?

Harry may never truly know the answer to those questions, may never understand just what the man was thinking. But none of those things mattered now. Their relationship was a thing of the past. It was only a painful memory.

How he wished he could erase the feeling of Riddle’s hand on his skin, the sound of Riddle's laughter right before he did something to make Harry grin. He wished he didn't remember it. That he could somehow purge himself of this. They were _just_ memories, but it hurt. Harry did not want to reminded of any of them.

These were images Harry wanted to cull them. Recollections and emotions that Harry wanted to bury as deeply as he could to the back of his mind. Never to be found again.

That was the _past_ and there was simply no going back to that. No, it would never be as simple as it had been then.

Harry was startled from his thoughts when Riddle began to stroke him, his pace steady and slow, his thumb playing with the sensitive skin at the crown of his cock. A spot that they both knew could drive Harry into insanity.

“Don’t lie to me, Harry. I know you far better than you think. You’re wet _and hard_.”

Harry groaned, unable to stifle the sound when Riddle increased his pace. His other hand suddenly crawled up, nails scratching against his flat stomach.

“T-that’s just a biological response. You _disgust_ me. You know that I loathe _—”_

Harry choked on air when Riddle twinned his fingers around Harry’s nipple, flicking and teasing at the nub until Harry was a writhing mess.

It had been too long since Harry had been intimate with anyone. His skin was incredibly sensitive, and the fact that it was _Riddle_ touching him made it far too difficult for him to control himself. The man had always known where to touch, had always known how to twist and to tease until Harry could think of nothing else but his hands on his skin.

_I can’t let this go on…_

Harry shifted, his breaths coming in fast and shallow as he tried to compose himself. But Riddle continued to jerk him, forcing him closer and closer to the familiar precipice in a matter of minutes with each patient twist of his hand.

“Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself? I find it hard to believe that you could hate me when every time I do _this—_ ” Harry whined when Riddle rolled his nipple between his fingers and pulled on it hard, all while Riddle’s other hand fisted Harry’s cock furiously. “ _—_ your hips twist and your tongue peeks out from your lips in delight.”

Harry quickly shut his mouth, his teeth clamping on his tongue in retaliation.

_I can’t give in. I can’t. This isn’t right._

“But oh yes, please _continue_ to lie. I can keep you here for days, edging you until you break. I can think of many ways to do just that if you insist…” Riddle rasped, and Harry felt ready to explode.

His eyes fluttered shut from behind the blindfold, his muscles tensing and jerking, as Riddle stroked him closer and closer to completion.

_Just a little more—_

Riddle’s hands abruptly pulled away.

Harry whined, his bollocks tight as he tried to chase after the warmth and bliss only Riddle could provide, the ropes keeping him rooted in place.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Harry hated when Riddle did that.

“I intend to,” Harry felt Riddle whisper into his ear, before he heard something snap in the dark _—_ like the plastic of a TV remote’s back cover being removed.

Harry gasped when a warm burst of air touched his cock, the sensation making his spine crawl. It was too close and Harry almost missed the moment the wood beneath his arse shifted.

“You see I have something particular in mind. I had this chair commissioned _specifically_ for that purpose,” Riddle said conversationally, the solid wood from beneath his cheeks disappearing as the man’s lips smoothed over Harry’s sensitive flesh.

_A false bottom…_

Harry trembled.

“I can’t very well stimulate you while sitting as you are on the chair,” Riddle said, delight and mischief thick in his tone as he pressed one moist finger to Harry's crack, wiggling the digit around until it finally breached Harry’s arse.

“O-oh fuck, don’t you dare,” Harry seethed, but Riddle simply clicked his tongue before burying his finger deeper inside, the burn enough to make Harry grind his teeth.

“I don’t think you quite understand your situation, Harry,” Riddle murmured, his lips rubbing against Harry’s twitching cock as he spoke. “You are here at _my_ behest. You are in no position to ask anything of me.”

Riddle punctuated his words by forcing another wet finger inside, stretching his insides and eliciting a pained cry from Harry’s lips.

The man’s finger was like fire licking at his insides.

“Though I do encourage you to beg. You know exactly how much I enjoy it when you do.”

Harry did know. More than he cared to admit. But he would sooner eat glass than beg.

Riddle, as if sensing Harry’s thoughts, shoved a third finger in, and Harry thought he might break. He was stuffed full, his teeth biting harshly on bottom lip to stifle his sounds of pain, hoping that the man would stop.

But Riddle never yanked his fingers out, the burn agony and bliss wrapped in one. He pushed them in and out, a steady rhythm that made his spine quiver.

It never relented, never wavered. 

Harry didn't know how long Riddle’s constant thrusting of his fingers went on for, but was entirely too long. The discomfort and the pain made his cock swell and harden further than it already was, the evidence of his desire more humiliating than the fact he was being debauched in the first place.

Still, Harry did not beg, even as the the man scissored and worked him expertly with his hand. He grit his teeth and bore through the thrill lapping at his senses.

_Fuck._

Harry hated how much of a masochist Riddle had made him into, hated the fact that instead of softening from the pain, it was excitement that ran through his veins. Riddle had been the one to introduce him to it all, to teach him that pain was pleasure when done just right.

It was entirely unfair, incredibly cruel to be reminded of this. Harry wanted to punch Riddle as hard as he could in the face.

Then, Riddle twisted his fingers and Harry saw stars. His fingers brushed against his prostate and shocks rippled throughout his body, lighting his spine ablaze.

Harry cried out, nearly tipping over the edge when he felt Riddle’s lips curve into a smile over his cock.

“There it is.”

Riddle pulled his fingers out with a wet plop, and Harry sighed, unable to repress the sound.

Relishing the relief, and ignoring that small slither of disappointment, Harry heard a noise from beneath him.The familiar sound of plastic snapping louder, and the only warning Harry had before something was buried deep into his arse.

Harry screamed, the sudden intrusion stretching him past what he had been comfortable with.

_What the fuck was that?_

“T-take it out,” Harry gasped, and squirmed when Riddle shoved it further inside until it was buried completely inside.

The object had ridges that rubbed against Harry’s walls, and there was a strange curve right at the end that sent a delicious jolt up his spine every time Harry moved. It drove Harry wild every time Riddle saw fit to push it, the curved end brushing against his prostate each time.

Harry was fucking drowning.

The object had to be some sort of dildo or plug. It was too big to be anything else. Too pleasant and velvety in spite of the ridges grinding against his insides. Harry had no way of telling.

“No. You will come to appreciate it soon,” Riddle chuckled and Harry snarled, careful not to move too much lest he jar the object buried inside.

“Like _hell_ I am going to let you do as you please!” Harry shouted. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; his lungs so tight, they felt ready to burst.

Harry felt Riddle’s head shift away from his legs, the heavy weight of his proximity no longer choking him.

And then several seconds of heavy silence passed.

Harry heard a belt buckle in the dark, and Harry cried out when leather smacked him hard in the chest. It stung, the leather cutting into his skin painfully as Harry tried to shrink into himself. But the restraints did not budge, and Harry was forced to deal with the possibility of being hit again.

Something shifted in the dark, and Harry immediately tensed, sensing that Riddle was not going to stop at just one. But then there was silence again, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he tried to make out just where Riddle was in the dark.

Harry knew he was going to hit him again. He could practically taste it in the back of his throat, but Riddle was a master at keeping him at the edge of his seat. The fucker loved to play with his mind just as much as he liked to tease his body. So when the second blow came, Harry had no time to prepare, catching totally off guard.

The end of the strap cut him right over the shoulder, the blow enough to make the teeth in Harry’s mouth rattle. Clenching his jaw, Harry fought down the yelp that wanted to leave his lips and focused instead on predicting where Riddle would hit him next.

But when the next blow came, the leather biting into his nipple, Harry threw that idea entirely out the window.

Harry could not stop himself from jerking and attempting to twist away, the toy shoved into his arse jostling and moving around along with his movements to rip moans of pain and pleasure from his lips.

There was no end or beginning to the feeling, the line between pleasure and pain too fucking thin.

Biting his lip as hard as he could, Harry tried to hold himself still as Riddle continued to rain blow after blow on his flesh.

“Beautiful.”

Harry heard Riddle say, and then the blows stopped as abruptly as they began. Harry was in tears, and Harry could not have been more grateful that Riddle had covered his eyes. It was a small mercy.

Harry’s eyes were too expressive. They revealed too much, even after he had become a member of the Order of the Phoenix. It was a miracle he had managed to last as long as he did, his ability to lie about as abysmal as his reconnaissance work.

It was possibly why Dumbledore may have even sent him out as far from the city as he could.

“And still hard, always the masochist.”

“Sod off,” Harry spat out, turning his head to search for the man’s presence. But Riddle did not speak again, the silence weighing heavily in his mind.

There were no steps. No sound of clothes rustling in the dark. It was absolutely silent.

Harry's skin broke out in gooseflesh, unable to curve his unease when he couldn’t quite make out where the man was.

 _He’s just trying to scare you, Harry_! he shouted fiercely into his head. But the thought did little to comfort him.

There was a predator prowling in the room and Harry was absolutely at his mercy.

 _Click_.

Harry jerked, his muscles twitching and his mouth gaping open to release a loud cry when the toy inside him began to vibrate, its ridges churning his insides.

“Y-you bastard,” Harry groaned, his fingers digging so hard into the leather that it split beneath his fingers. His legs yanked against its restraints, but there was no way to stop the toy from moving inside him. There was nowhere for him to go, no direction he could move to stop the toy from driving him bloody crazy.

It was too much, too fast, and Harry's mouth parted despite himself, a whimper escaping his lips.

_Oh god, I am going to—_

Harry slumped when the toy was immediately shut off, his navel burning from how close he had been to orgasm.

“Fun, no?” Riddle whispered from in front of him and Harry reeled, not at all expecting the man to have been standing so near.

“I prepared especially for this moment. I never quite allowed you the privilege of doing this.”

Dread exploded in his gut when Riddle slipped one leg over Harry’s right thigh, and then the hooked his other leg over Harry’s other thigh, the man sitting almost entirely on Harry’s lap.

Riddle was entirely bare, his warm skin scalding Harry’s own as he tried to control his labored breathing, the touch of firm and muscular thighs irritating the cut skin.

It stung, but Harry hardly registered the pain, too caught up in the fact that Riddle was sitting _bare-arsed_ on his lap.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” Harry croaked, his voice wavering when one of Riddle’s hands pressed softly against his cheek while the other wrapped tightly around Harry’s leaking cock. He began to stroke it lightly, smearing it with a viscous substance, and something lodged in Harry's throat from the sensation.

“Fucking you, of course,” Riddle stated matter-factly, and Harry had no chance to respond before Riddle lifted his hips and plunged Harry’s cock into his arse.

Harry groaned, swept away by the tight ring of muscle enveloping him. The heat swallowed him whole, drowned him in ecstasy as Riddle slid Harry’s cock deeper inside. Riddle’s tight arse was like velvet, soft and tight all at once. It was  _maddening._ Harry was nearly swept away; Harry almost barely catching the sound of the man’s own sharp breaths from the pleasure.

His toes curled when Riddle continued to push, muscles contracting deliciously around him.

He could hear Riddle’s own gasp, but it hardly mattered when Riddle continued to clench his arse, squeezing his cock like a vice. When the man didn't stop until he stuffed himself full of Harry's cock.

_Oh my god, he’s—_

“ _Yess_ ,” Harry heard Riddle hiss, when he sheathed himself entirely on Harry’s cock.

“Does it feel good, Harry? How does it feel to be buried deep with a toy stuffed up your arse?” Harry cried out when the toy flared to life, the hooked tip of the toy pressed up against his prostate buzzing so intensely that Harry swore he could feel it thrumming along his spine. Riddle’s soft breaths puffed against his face, but Harry did not spare that a thought, not when he was trying to resist, when the pleasure threatened his self-restraint.

“ _Oh God, T-tom_ ,” Harry cried out, unable to stop the desperate plea from leaving his lips with the vibrator driving him bloody insane and Riddle’s tight arse gripping him like a fist.

Harry was lost to the delicious vibrations abusing his prostate with little reprieve, his eyes fluttering shut each time Riddle’s arse contracted around his cock as he sat, motionless on Harry’s lap, unable to stop himself from whining from the ecstasy.

It was too much. It was too _good_.

Harry wanted more.

“I asked you a question,” Riddle grunted, holding himself tortuously still with Harry’s cock buried inside despite Harry’s futile attempts to coax the man to move. Harry twisted and jerked his hips up, but Tom was rooted in place. The only sign that the man was affected at all, his sharp breaths each time Harry moved.

_God. Even taking it up the arse this man is impossible..._

Riddle was not as unaffected as he seemed, but what did that matter to Harry in that moment? The bastard refused to move, and Harry knew for a fact that if he didn’t give Riddle an answer, he would never find his own completion.

Harry’s climax was creeping steadily closer once again, and he was desperate for release. To sink into the delicious bliss and drown in it.

He was just about to tip over the edge when Riddle shut off the vibrator.

A sob tore from his lips at the loss, fists cutting into his palm when Riddle squeezed his cock so tightly that Harry’s vision went white, his frustration forgotten entirely.

Harry knew he should not give in. He _knew_ that letting Riddle do as he pleased would damn him again. Nothing good ever came out of messing with Riddle, but _god he needed to cum._ He couldn’t take this, not when Riddle was melting away at his mental resolve.

“T-tom, please. It feels so _good_ , don’t leave me like this,” Harry begged, the words like acid in the back of his throat when Riddle laughed breathily, his muscles contracting once more before slowly sliding up Harry’s cock and slamming back down.

Harry moaned, and Riddle grunted out in pleasure. The man sank his fingers into Harry’s hair before wrenching the offending blindfold from Harry’s unfocused eyes.

Light flashed over Harry’s eyes, and he blinked furiously to dissolve the dark spots dancing along his blurry vision.

It was several seconds before Harry could see. The spots vanishing and the body on top of him sharpening enough for Harry to make out Riddle’s entirely nude form.

Harry felt like his heart going to burst out his chest, his mouth falling open when Riddle’s eyes caught his own emerald gaze.

His eyes were black, so dark that there was no distinguishing Riddle’s pupil from his irses. His face was flushed, his mouth twisted into a savage grin as he lifted his hips and slammed back down, the friction forcing a soft cry from Harry’s lips.

“Your eyes never could hide away your true thoughts,” Riddle groaned, his body jerking up and down on top of his lap, the hand at Harry’s head forcing his neck back to bare his throat to his enemy.

“They shine so prettily when consumed with lust. When you’re just shy of coming apart,” Riddle purred, and Harry shut his eyes when Riddle began to jerk more furiously on his cock, his muscles squeezing him so tightly that Harry doubted he would last if the man kept this up.

“Do you want release, Harry?” Riddle crooned, and Harry could only moan, shivering when Riddle leaned forward and began to lick and bite his throat. His teeth dug into skin hard enough to bruise, and Harry nearly came then and there from the sharp pain, the man’s sadism always fanning the flames of his own desire.

“ _Please_ ” Harry whined, and Riddle chuckled, his laughter punctuated with sounds of his own exertions as he continued to slide Harry’s cock in and out of his arse. The heat punctuated by the sharp bites at his throat and the toy jostling and poking at his prostate every time Riddle moved _just so._

Harry was on fire, his nerves screaming and his mind silent.

There was no war going outside these walls. There was no resistance. There was no Lord Voldemort. It was only Tom, and the moist heat melting him from the inside.

“What is it that you say? What is _my name_?” Riddle hissed, and then it dawned on Harry what the man wanted him to say.

Something corrosive twisted within Harry's gut, the disgust at the mere thought of calling Tom by that name enough to clear some of the haze in his mind.

_No, I will not._

But then Riddle sank his teeth into his neck once more, the only warning Harry had before the vibrator brushing against his prostate flared to life.

Harry saw stars, all thought of resistance melting away almost instantly.

Blood rushed rapidly to Harry’s ears, the sound a roar as Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Riddle savaged his neck, his teeth digging so deeply on his flesh that Harry knew the man had drawn blood. But none of that mattered. Not when Riddle felt so good, and kept groaning softly each time Harry likely brushed against his prostate.

His orgasm was looming over the horizon, the promise of it so addicting that Harry knew that he would die if he was denied. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes from the pleasure, horrific realization heavy in the back of his mind when Harry's lips parted to groan and whisper the words he’d never wanted to say.

Harry felt a piece of him die and come to life all at once.

“P-please...let me cum, _V-voldemort_.”

Tears ran down his cheeks, his eyes staring unseeingly at the blurry ceiling as he tried to stop himself from sobbing.

Harry felt Riddle grin around his neck, and then, with a soft click, Riddle upped the vibration speed and increased his pace.

Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth opening and tongue falling out his lips when Riddle did not relent, the pleasure so overwhelming that Harry could not think. His toes curled, his own arse clenched around the toy as Riddle rode him closer and closer to his imminent climax.

“ _Good boy_ ,” Riddle groaned, the man’s breath barely audible over the rush of blood roaring in Harry’s ears, drowning out Riddle’s labored breaths, as Harry cried out and moaned.

And then Riddle squeezed, the grip bruising and painful around his cock. There was no warning, no dark promises whispered into his ear. Harry broke, screaming himself hoarse from the strength of his own orgasm, his cum shooting into Riddle’s arse.

But Riddle continued to fuck himself on Harry’s cock, his muscles so tight that Harry couldn’t stifle his pained cries until the man released a sharp groan, and finally stopped moving, Riddle’s cum splattering all over Harry’s trembling stomach.

Harry was gasping for breath by the end of it, but still, the vibrations in his arse did not stop. Riddle then slipped Harry’s cock from his arse, the squelching sound absolutely filthy, but unimportant when the vibrator was buzzing away. The toy jostled at his prostate, and Harry cried out, the sensation too much after his orgasm.

_Oh god, please no._

Harry was losing his mind, his jaw wet with saliva that trickled from having kept his mouth open for so long. But Harry wasn’t able to keep it shut, not when each time Riddle moved over his lap, the toy moved with him.

“W-what are—”

A cry escaped Harry's lips when Riddle slipped off his thigh, to then shove the vibrator more deeply into Harry’s arse with his foot.

Harry shot the man a desperate glance, his mouth parting into a silent cry all while watching how Riddle tortured him.

_No...no...no._

Riddle looked entirely composed despite the strange splotches of white Harry could make out on the man’s stomach and the blur of black on the man’s head. He looked too fuzzy now that he had stepped away, and Harry cursed his shite vision even as he tried to hold onto his sanity.

Harry wished he had his glasses. At least then he’d know what the man’s expression was, could predict what the man could possibly be planning. Could stare at _something_ to distract himself from the buzzing abusing his prostate.

But there was nothing Harry could do.

“ _Ah_!” Harry screamed when Riddle pushed the toy further, the toy ramming into his prostate head on.  

Harry's sanity splintered.

“Oh, you thought we were done?”

Riddle sounded amused, but Harry couldn’t respond even if he tried, the vibrator was driving him mad. His mind deliciously blank, consumed entirely by the sight of Riddle's lips quirking into a pleased grin.

“ _Not even close._ ”


End file.
